


How Near, How Far

by Indefensible2017



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, locked in the pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indefensible2017/pseuds/Indefensible2017
Summary: The revelation that Bernie is going speed dating sends Serena's newfound feelings for her co-lead spiralling. With their relationship beginning to fracture, the last thing they need is to get locked in Albie's together overnight.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a short story really, it's just been playing on my mind for a few weeks so I wanted to get it written down. I'll try and post the second chapter up next week when I've finished tweaking it. :)

Chapter One

 

There’s a familiar comfort to the sound that the lift makes as it pings open on AAU, the smell of the ward, the gentle hum of patients and staff. Serena smiles to herself, coffees and pastries in hand, as she heads across the ward and to her office. _Their office_. Her heart beats a little faster as she spots Bernie at her desk, the same way it has done every day since they became co-leads.

Bernie looks up as Serena enters the office, offers her a soft smile. “Good morning.”

It’s always a good morning when Bernie is there. Serena gives a nod, passes Bernie her coffee, spies the laminated leaflet in Bernie’s hand as she does so. Serena’s breath catches in her chest at the sight, her mind racing as she feels her heart plummet to her stomach. “Speed dating?” She asks, tries to look interested at the sight of the leaflet as she sits down opposite Bernie, passes her a croissant that suddenly feels undeserved.

Bernie glances down at the leaflet in her hand, pauses in silence for a second as Serena tries desperately, fruitlessly, to read Bernie’s mind. “I’m going with Dom tomorrow. It’s an LGBT night, at that bar in town, you know the one where they served you Shiraz in a fishbowl?”

Bernie looks up and Serena quickly averts her gaze, realises she can’t bear to meet Bernie’s eye, fears she will blurt out the feelings that have been building inside of her if Bernie’s was to see beyond the surface of her facade. Serena makes a noise of recognition in reply to her. Of course she remembers the bar with the fishbowl glasses. She remembers every evening she and Bernie have spent together, in random bars in town, at her home with several bottles of wine and whatever was on TV that night, sharing dinner in little late-night restaurants.

Serena can feel the memories fracture in her mind as she recalls them, as though she hadn’t experienced the same evenings as Bernie at all, as though she had spent the last four months living in a parallel universe where maybe, just maybe, there had been _something_.

“Dom thinks it’s been a long time since I was on a date.” Bernie adds, places the leaflet on her desk and turns toward her computer, her eyes focused on her work and seemingly unaware of the effect her words have had on Serena.

Serena feels her lungs struggle for air and her grip tightens around her paper coffee cup. She wants to escape from the confines of the small office they share, a space that normally feels so intimately theirs now feels like a prison, like the walls are closing in around her. But how can she run? They’re meant to be friends. She’s meant to care about this, to _want_ Bernie to do something that would make her happy.

Serena knows she’s being selfish. She feels ridiculous. How horribly cliched to be in love with your best friend and co-lead. How heartbreaking for that love to now, suddenly, be evidently unrequited. “I hope it goes well for you.” She manages to force the words from her lips, reaches for a patient file in the vain hope of distracting herself from the situation.

 _I’m right here._ She thinks, the words in the file a blurred jumble as she desperately blinks back the tears that sting her eyes. _I’m right here and you can’t see me._

 

* * *

 

“Perhaps you could actually listen to what I’m saying rather than going in gung-ho like we’re in some sort of war zone?” Serena slams the door closed behind her as she follows Bernie into their office. Her pulse is racing, she can feel her heat rise to her cheeks.

“He would have died on the table, Serena,” Bernie turns, her expression as furious as Serena imagines her own is. “Time was running out - I’m sorry there wasn’t time for a comprehensive debate over the situation.”

“There was long enough to let me know what was going on!”

“You knew exactly what the options were, don’t act like it was some massive surprise to you.” Bernie spits out. 

Serena finds it hard to argue Bernie’s point, despite her anger. Her own plan for the surgery had fallen through, her cautiousness had led to the patient losing blood. Too much blood. “You took a massive risk.”

“We didn’t have a choice.”

“We?” Serena raises an eyebrow.

“We’re a team, remember? We share a ward?” Bernie is still angry, her cheeks a little flushed, her tied-back hair messy from having quickly removed her scrub cap as she’d left theatre with Serena hot on her heels.

Serena can feel guilt creep into her veins at the damage she’s caused to their friendship. The tension in her body had reached breaking point after a day of sniping at Bernie over anything she could find - her handwriting, the messiness of her desk, the MRI she’d ordered for the patient in bay four - anything to mask the underlying angst she feels that tomorrow night Bernie will be dating women. Lots of women.

Serena drops her scrub cap onto her desk, runs her hand through her hair. Her anger has done nothing to abate the despair that has latched to her insides like a terminal disease. She searches for the words to resolve this, she badly wants to apologise but the words don’t come. How can she say sorry when she still feels so hurt?

Bernie lets out a ragged, tired breath, breaking the silence between them and their eyes meet, both full of disappointment and exhaustion. They never argue anymore, not since Serena came back from her suspension. This isn’t like them.

Serena aches. Aches with regret, stupidity, embarrassment.

“I thought you were meant to have my back. Wasn’t that the deal?” Bernie asks, her voice tight, pushes past Serena and out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Serena watches the clock tick by, her pen between her fingers, nervously bouncing against the desk with a tapping she would ordinarily find unbearable, but all she can hear is the ticking of the clock as time passes at an excruciating pace. She and Bernie were both meant to finish their shifts half an hour ago.At some point Bernie will have to come into the office to get her car keys so she can go home, Serena waits in the hope she hasn’t caught a cab home instead to avoid any further altercation that might arise from being in the same office again.

They’ve both worked on different patients for the remainder of their shifts, barely a word passed between them. Serena knows the tension between them has been palpable from the silent glances Fletch and Raf have been exchanging. She knows Bernie did the right thing in theatre, had acted in the interest of the patient and ultimately had saved his life. she needs to fix the damage she's caused.

_“I thought you were meant to have my back.”_

The memory of Bernie’s words sends a fresh shot of regret through Serena. Of course she would have her back, a million times over she would be there for Bernie. However she feels, she won’t let it come between them. The sound of Bernie’s approaching footsteps fills Serena with a stomach-churning mixture of anxiety, fear and hope. 

“You’re still here.” Bernie remarks, her tone cold. She’s changed from her scrubs into a pair of skinny denims and a light blue Oxford button-down shirt that’s a little creased from having been stuffed into her locker that afternoon. She looks tired.

“Bernie,” Serena rises from her chair, feels like she can’t sit down with this much adrenaline pumping through her veins, wants to meet Bernie on the same level. “What happened earlier…”

Bernie pauses next to her, hands awkwardly shoved into her pockets, eyes wide and full of apprehension.

“I was out of line.” Serena continues, desperate to put things right. “There are no excuses for how I’ve behaved. I… I do have your back, and we are a team. I promise.” She reaches out to gently touch the top of Bernie’s arm, tries to ignore the weakness in her knees at the sensation of Bernie’s warm body against her fingertips. “I’m so sorry. Can I buy you a drink? Please?”

Bernie bites her bottom lip, glances down at her shoes, seems a little tentative in her decision. “Well,” she shrugs, her eyes dancing as they come back up to meet Serena’s, “I am fairly thirsty.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, thanks so much for comments and kudos. I'm so glad you liked the first chapter. This one got a bit longer than I had intended, also the rating I had presumed I would write to didn't seem to fit, so I've knocked the rating down - I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone too much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think! :)

Chapter Two

 

Sat at a little table in Albie’s it’s almost like nothing had happened that day, the conversation flows between them so easily. The wine tastes good, mixed with the relief that Serena feels flow through her veins that Bernie agreed to come. She’s resolved to ignore the dull ache of loss that she feels over Bernie’s speed dating. They’re here right now, and for Serena nothing could be more important.

Bernie is telling a story about Cameron’s complicated education, more than half a glass of wine already gone, her gestures animated as she explains to Serena how good he is at medicine, skirts over her divorce as the reason for his dropping out of medical school but Serena knows enough from previous conversations that Cameron took the split hard.“He’s asked specifically to work on AAU when he starts,” Bernie sips her wine, “alongside the illustrious Serena Campbell.” There’s no sarcasm in Bernie’s tone, only admiration.

Serena lets out a laugh. “Where’s he been hearing his stories about me from?”

“From me, actually.”

Serena feels herself blush, runs her fingertip over the rim of her wine glass. “It’s hardly like I spent 20 years saving soldiers in the desert.” She can barely bring herself to look up, knows she won’t be able to hide the delight in her eyes that Bernie thinks so highly of her.

Bernie shrugs, “He’d be a fool to want to work anywhere else.”

Serena finally finds the courage to move her eyes from her glass, eager and hopefully to that Bernie’s eyes will meet her own with the same tenderness.Of course they do. They always do.She smiles, feels the heat in her cheeks from the happy fluttering that fills her stomach, takes a sip of her wine to try and pull herself together a little.

Serena has forgotten how many nights they’ve spent like this, sat opposite each other in this crowded, cosy pub. Blind to the colleagues that drink around them, they are so entirely absorbed in their own conversation. Their usual spot tonight however had been taken by two vaguely familiar paramedics, and so Serena had found a little snug in the corner, out of the way of everyone else, so small that it practically pushes their bodies together. Neither Bernie nor Serena complain at the lack of space.

It’s been four months, Serena realises, four months of meeting in Albie’s like this, sometimes once a week, sometimes more. They always find something to talk about, get to know each other like Serena has never known anyone else, has never allowed herself to be known. Bernie always listens, never judges, always seems to want to know more. In return Serena offers the same attention. She genuinely cares. Deeply cares.

It’s been two months since Serena left Robbie. She would never admit to Bernie that the catalyst for the decision was the night they’d spent pressed together shoulder to knee in a little restaurant, sharing a pizza and more wine than was good for either of them.

Bernie’s fingers had lightly settled against her own in the taxi they’d shared home that night. Only a single, short and courageous movement away from closing the space between their palms completely - a movement Serena had not been brave enough to make, no matter how her mind had begged her to take the chance.

Heart already racing in her chest as they pulled up outside her house, nothing could have prepared Serena for Bernie to lean over and place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. A kiss that Serena had felt across her entire body, as though someone had awoken her up from a 52-year sleep. A kiss that had seemed to last both for an eternity and a split-second, that had filled Serena’s lungs with Bernie’s perfume and engraved Bernie’s name across her heart.

“Good night, Serena.” Bernie had whispered, her hot breath against damp, kissed skin sending a quiver across Serena’s body.

Serena hadn’t been aware of the journey from the taxi to her front door, her blood had been pumping so loudly in her ears, hands trembling as she’d unlocked her front door. So focused on getting herself inside the house in one piece, she fell against the back of the door as it closed behind her, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. She felt overwhelmed, infatuated… very much not the heterosexual Serena Campbell she had once considered herself to be.

Bernie's goodnight kiss had filled Serena with questions over the direction of their friendship, but also with a hope that maybe there was _something_ between them. She ended her relationship with Robbie the next day, over an awkward cup of coffee in their local Caffe Nero. It had felt naive and impulsive to finish her relationship with him based on the light touches and single kiss of Bernie Wolfe but somehow entirely right. 

Serena knew now just how naive and impulsive she had been, but leaving Robbie had been the right thing to do, her mind wouldn’t be changed on that. She would never feel for him like she feels for Bernie, requited or not.

“Another glass?” Bernie asks, pulling Serena’s attention back to the now-empty wine glasses that sit on their table, her brown eyes showing a flash of concern that Serena’s attention had obviously, momentarily, been elsewhere.

They always do this. Serena always buys the first round, and Bernie the second. Bernie always asks, Serena always agrees.

“Please.” Serena pushes the empty towards Bernie to take back to the bar with her. Bernie’s fingers collide with Serena’s as she reaches for the glass and they both pause, Bernie’s fingertip trailing along the knuckle of Serena’s thumb in the briefest of moments before she’s on her feet, glasses in hand and on her way to the bar.

Serena isn’t sure how much time passes from the moment Bernie brings back a whole bottle of Shiraz from the bar to them pouring the last drops into their glasses, but she certainly feels a little hazier for it. They’d moved on to their most ludicrous patient stories half a bottle of wine or so ago, shared only in whispers for fear of being overheard by fellow staff, stifling laughter at each other’s punchlines. They share the same sense of humour, have shared so much of their lives over the last few months.

“I should go.” Bernie finishes her wine, “you’re a bad influence, Serena Campbell. Keeping me out ’til the small hours.” She smiles, teasingly.

Serena reaches out instinctively before her brain can stop her. Her hand is atop of Bernie’s, her breath caughtin her chest at what she’s done. Serena knows she won’t see Bernie again before Bernie goes speed dating with Dom. She feels like she’s losing control, like Bernie’s hand is the only thing that can steady her. 

“Serena?” Bernie asks unsurely, the smile gone from her lips.

“Please don’t go.” Serena breathes, her voice barely there in the already-quiet pub.

The silence that falls between them is deafening and seems to last a lifetime, only to be broken by the sound of a key turning in the front door of the pub.Serena’s hand quickly pulls away from Bernie’s, startled by the noise. She quickly realises they’ve been so tucked away in a corner that they can’t see out across the room, meaning no one could have seen them either, had already put two and two together that they’ve been locked in by the time Bernie has got up on her feet and checked the door.

“I guess we’ve got a few hours to kill.” Bernie sighs as she heads back toward Serena, motions towards the clock that hangs over the bar that reads 1am.

“Cocktail?” Serena asks as she gets to her feet, almost grateful that something had broken the tension she’d created between them in her panic.

“I don’t normally drink cocktails.” Bernie admits, taking a seat at a bar stool as Serena heads behind the bar, rests her elbows on the bar as she watches Serena select a few bottles from the shelves.

“Well then maybe I can tempt you to try?” Serena smiles, puts the bottles between Bernie and her, finds a cocktail shaker.

“I can always be tempted.” Bernie replies, her tone and expression unreadable.

Serena feels the blush rise to her cheeks, wishes she could be the thing Bernie was tempted by.

 

* * *

 

Despite a short stint as a barmaid in the 1980s and having hosted many a party in her time, Serena finds she runs out of cocktail recipes much quicker than she had hoped. Half-drunk cocktails line the bar, many of which Bernie had not enjoyed, it having become quickly apparent that Bernie was definitely not a cocktail drinker. Serena appreciated her participation nonetheless. The mixture of alcohol and sugary mixers had kept them awake, kept the conversation flowing.

With Serena out of ideas and Bernie unwilling to try anything Serena makes up off the top her head, they migrate toward their usual table.

“If I end up ill over the next few days I’m blaming you and that last cocktail entirely.” Bernie points her finger at Serena accusingly, her expression playful.

Serena raises an eyebrow, “it was as good as any martini you’d buy in a bar.”

“It tasted like paint stripper.”

“I’ll have you know it’s a dinner party classic. You must have had parties whilst you were married? Invited friends over for dinner?”

“I’ve never had anything like that,” Bernie shrugs, “we didn’t have parties or big Christmases. I didn’t get the time to make any friends at home, even if I was between deployments it was only just for a couple of weeks at a time, and Marcus…” She trails off, folds the corner of a beer mat awkwardly. The topic of her marriage still obviously delicate. She had lived a lie for so much of her life - she would never be able to get those years back, Serena cannot even begin to imagine the loss Bernie must feel. 

“It’s not too late to start? Invite some Holby people to your house sometime?”

“Maybe I’m too old for beginnings.”

Bernie blinks back tears and Serena feels her heart ache at the sight. She reaches out across their little mahogany table, stops as common sense fills her but Bernie’s fingers have already reached out too. Their hands meet, only lightly, but enough for their fingertips to hook together.

“We’re the same age, remember,” Serena replies, her voice gentle. “I’m not sure I’m ready to give up on beginnings just yet.”

Bernie’s eyes rise from her crumpled beer mat to meet Serena’s gaze, their fingers still touching across the table. “I’m not sure I’m ready to give up either.”

Serena smiles, tries not to read too much into the darkness of Bernie’s pupils, how she can’t seem to find her breath at the uncertainty she can feel between them.

“Will you tell me?” Bernie finally asks, her voice soft.

“Tell you what?” Serena asks, tries to seem ignorant of what she knows Bernie is asking.

“You know what, Serena,” Bernie’s hand leaves Serena’s. The loss of Bernie’s touch makes Serena’s heart constrict. “Why were you so angry with me all day? What did I do to upset you?”

Serena holds Bernie’s gaze for moment as she tries to figure out a way to get out of the question. Can she pretend she misheard? Give an answer to a different question? Shrug it off? She sips her wine. A large sip.“I don’t want to talk about it.” She eventually answers, feels guilt wash over her at such a inadequate answer. She knows she’s let Bernie down but she’s also saving their friendship. This is the right thing to do.

Bernie rises from her bar stool, obviously hurt from Serena’s deflection. She moves across the room as though anger has made her impossible for her to remain still. “What am I to you if you can’t even be honest with me?” She stills, runs a hand through her hair, exasperated.

 _You’re everything._ Serena thinks, tries to quell the panic rising in her. She can’t get out of this now, she knows Bernie won't let this drop, it’s too late for lies. “Bernie, it’s the… it’s the speed dating.” She feels as though she might be sick from the combination of her churning stomach and her rapidly beating heart.

Serena’s words seem to stun Bernie. She freezes on the spot, speechless.

Serena continues, feels as though she’s driving their friendship 100mph into a brick wall and the brakes have failed. “I don’t want you to go speed dating with Dom tomorrow.”

Silence.

Finally Bernie speaks, “but you don’t want me?”

Now it’s Serena turn to be stunned.

“That night I kissed you goodnight, in the taxi, you…” Bernie frowns, as though she’s trying to fit the pieces of a jigsaw together. “You didn’t say goodnight back, you didn’t turn around when you reached your door, you didn’t text me for days after…”

Memories flood Serena’s mind of that night. She had frozen as Bernie had kissed her, had been so overwhelmed that she hadn’t turned to say goodnight or even wave to her when she’d reached her front door. They hadn’t been rota'd to work together for the proceeding three days and Serena had been silent throughout. She had been so inside her own mind, so focused on leaving Robbie and the implications that had for how she thought of her own sexuality. She’d never thought about how her silence would feel to Bernie.

“Do you have any idea how long it had taken me to build up the courage to even do that? And then… _nothing_. What did you want me to think other that I’d made you uncomfortable? How _dare_ you be angry at me, Serena.”

Serena could feel tears burn at her eyes at the frustration and disappointment she felt in herself. Bernie had been right there, waiting for her, all this time. “I left Robbie because of that kiss, Bernie, but I was scared of how I felt. I didn't know what to do.” Her words felt like an excuse. She felt pathetic.

“I was scared too, Serena. I still am.” Bernie turns from Serena, as though she can’t bear to look at her. “At least I was brave enough to try.”

Serena can see Bernie begin to distance herself from this, to shutdown on her. Serena isn't sure she'll be able to salvage any part of the relationship if she lets Bernie go now. She needs to prove to Bernie how she feels, to find that same bravery that Bernie had found that night she had kissed her goodnight. Getting to her feet Serena closes the space between them, taking Bernie’s hand to tug her back around to face her. She’s so full of adrenaline she almost feels she’s floating, only grounded enough to feel the trembling of her body as she captures Bernie’s mouth with her own.

Every detail of Bernie overwhelms Serena. The softness of her lips. The sound Bernie makes as her lips part for Serena's tongue. The hotness of her mouth. The smoothness of Bernie’s skin as Serena glides her fingers under the cotton of her shirt and over the outline of her hip. She feels engulfed by Bernie, sinking fast with no intention to take a breath. She can feel Bernie’s hands on her, fingers playing with the collar of her blouse, grazing the bare skin at the back of Serena’s neck, before she’s pushing Serena backwards towards the sofa. She lets herself fall back against the cushions of the sofa, feels Bernie is a predator and she’s the prey. She’s desperate to be consumed.

The weight of Bernie's body atop of hers makes Serena moan, can feel the gentle roll of Bernie's hips against her own, the soft pressure of Bernie’s thigh pressed between hers. Bernie’s eyes are dark as their lips part, a little space forming between them as they take in the situation, almost as though neither can believe this is reality. Serena knows she’s had a lot to drink, but no. _This is real._ She can feel the tremble of Bernie’s body above her. She can hear the shakiness of their breaths and the ticking of the clock that hangs at the bar. The details are too rich for this to be her imagination.

“I’m sorry.” Serena whispers against Bernie’s lips, her voice cracking a little. She knows the hunger is abating between them for now, the moment now too intimate to just be about sex. “I should have have been braver. I should have seen beyond my own feelings, beyond my own fear.”

“When you said you left Robbie I never thought it was because me, I thought it was because he was such an ogre." A smile pulls at Bernie's lips as she finishes her sentence, and Serena can't help but feel a smile rise too. Bernie continues, "I should have seen beyond my own feelings as well, I was so sure I'd pushed too far and scared you away."

"It doesn't matter now." Serena runs her hands down Bernie's sides, lets them rest on her hips, enjoys the feeling of Bernie's body beneath her touch.   
  
"The speed dating was Dom’s silly idea for me to get over you,” Bernie continues, bites her bottom lip, “I never wanted to go. I’ve only ever wanted you, since the moment I set eyes on you.”

Serena leans in, lips lingering against Bernie’s. “Please don’t get over me.”

Bernie smiles, places a series of little kiss against Serena’s cheek, her cheekbone, her chin. “I could never get over you, Serena.”

 

* * *

 

It’s 7am before a member of staff begins to unlock the front door of Albie’s, the sound enough to stir Serena. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Bernie’s waist as she lays beside her, pressed together on the small space the sofa allows. She smiles at the sight of Bernie, hair mussed and shirt creased, just as Bernie’s eyes flutter open. Bernie returns her smile softly.

Serena knows they don’t have much time before the pub landlord finds them on his sofa, will surely want to know why they’re there. There will be questions, a bill to pay and undoubtedly apologies on both sides, but the few seconds that they have left Serena wants to savour.

She can feel Bernie’s heart beat against her body and she closes her eyes, absorbs the feeling as best she can, commits it to memory. How close they bodies are, to feel such a thing. How close they are in every sense of the word, to know that this is just their beginning. 


End file.
